Dreaming of You
by Sir Gwydion
Summary: Three years ago Beka disappeared without a trace, leaving Rosto heartbroken and believing she was dead. When a startling young Dog comes to claim his aid, he is torn. Could there be a chance of finding the woman who has haunted his dreams all these years?
1. Hope in the Darkness

**Greetings!**

**I'm taking a short break from my other story (writer's block - shudder). So here's a story that's been stewing in the back of my mind for a while. Its not my usual style, but . . . I'm already stuck in the plot like a fly in a web. It's too fun!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Sir Gwydion**

Chapter One: Hope in the Darkness

It had been three years to the day since Beka left Corus for Port Caynn on Dog business. She'd been excited, he remembered. After all, it would be her first ever trip out of the Capital City of Tortall.

_But it was an ill-fated journey_, Rosto the Piper thought, turning over in bed to face the wall.

Beka never made it to Port Caynn, but was ambushed on the road. Dead or kidnapped, no one knew. Three years to the day since she disappeared, three years since the Rogue of Tortall's heart quietly broke, three years since he became a harder man than any should be.

Three years since he'd been able to close his eyes and dream of — anything. _Anything but her._

Though it was still an hour until dawn, Rosto got up and dressed. He would get no more sleep that night. He lit the candle on his desk and sat down to read the various reports sent to him by his rushers.

Calvahast was smuggling mage-spelled items into the Lower City, paying neither the King's tax or the Rogue's . . . Parmon had information about a crooked Dog who was playing his own game with the law . . . Ethibrel the dancer was found dead in the street the night before —

He paused. He'd known Ethibrel the Fair, a well-enough mot who could dance like a leaf in the wind, and smile charmingly enough to break any cove's heart — unless, of course, it was already broken.

He'd never been able to get a satisfactory answer as to what Beka's errand in Port Caynn had actually been. The only man who knew all the details was the Lord Provost himself, and he'd never tell the Rogue a thing as apparently important as that.

Time passed and the sun rose, leaving the candle flame pale and ghostly in the clear light of day. Rosto blew it out and went to his mirror to see that he wasn't too much of a fright. There had been a time when he spent more time on his appearance than was reasonable, vain as a peacock of his white-blond hair and midnight eyes. But there were little creases around his mouth and eyes now, testament to the few smiles he'd had cause for, and a hundred years' worth of frowns. Threads of true white were almost invisible in his fair hair, but there nonetheless.

There was a light tap on his door, and Kora came in, looking troubled.

"What?" he asked without much interest.

"Truth to tell, I'm not sure I should say." Two small vertical lines formed on her forehead. "It's probably nothing, and it might make everything much worse, but — you ought to know."

"What?" he repeated with a little more focus. "I ought to know what?"

Wordlessly, Kora handed him something small and slightly tarnished. He examined it closely, and his breathing gave a slight hitch.

A small, flat metal bird rested on his palm, wings spread as if for flight. Its eye was a polished black stone, and a slender chain of silver links looped through the hook on it's back. It was a necklace, formed like a pigeon.

But more then that, it was a necklace he knew. After all, it had been him who had given it to—

"Beka," he whispered.

X

The young woman pushed a strand of her light blond hair back off her forehead, dark brown eyes alert as she watched the Rogue hold court over his Rats. She was leaning back against the wall in the darkest shadow she could find. It hadn't been easy to get in to the Dancing Dove considering who and what she was, but with the help of a long, concealing cloak, a sidelong glance at a foolhardy young Rat and the exchange of a few coins, she had managed it.

For a moment, she watched Rosto the Piper dispense 'justice,' though in her tucked-away corner, she could only hear scattered phrases. What had Beka seen in him? she wondered. From what she could see, he was only a Rat, albeit their king. He had a grim, forbidding air about him that instinctively made her want to back away. Who could be so attached to that embodiment of the frozen north?

Then he turned and his face caught the light, and she could imagine him as he'd been then, handsome as the sunrise. And he still was, she realized, if you could see past the stern exterior. Beka had always said he was full of mischief. No longer so. He looked as if he hadn't laughed —

_For the past three years_, she realized, and bit her lip. Those years hadn't been easy for her either.

But now wasn't the time for such thoughts. Now was the time for doing what had to be done. She was ready now.

In a swift movement, the young woman pushed away from the wall, her cloak fluttering to reveal that her slender form was clad in the black uniform of a Dog, her baton at her hip. With brisk, efficient strides, she made her way through the crowded tavern to the very foot of the Rogue's dais. Her posture demanded his attention.

Black eyes flickered over her, assessing her. "What do you want?" the Rogue said at last, his tone guarded. "You aren't one of my court, nor have I seen you before." The unspoken words '_I would have remembered_' hovered in the air. She cut a striking figure.

She let a faint, half-mocking smile play over her lips, hoping that she could make him curious enough to agree to her request. "Only to talk, Master the Piper." She called him by the name, though everyone in the Lower City knew that their Rogue hadn't played his pipe for years. Three years, to be exact.

"Then talk." he said.

"In private, " she pressed.

Aniki the Swordswoman — a worthy adversary by all accounts and Queen of the Court of the Rogue, the woman knew — stood from the lesser throne and stalked over to her. "Unless I miss my guess by far, mistress, I know your 'business,' and the Rogue has no wish to tarry with women of your profession." It was said in an undertone, but venom suffused the words.

The young woman stared back at her unflinchingly, ignoring the implication that she was seeking to seduce the Rogue. "You've missed your mark by far and away, Lady. And I assure you, it is speech I wish for, nothing more. But speech of the gravest import."

"You don't speak like you're from the Lower City," Aniki said.

"No," the answer came simply. "I don't."

"Very well," said the Rogue. "We'll talk in the back room. Aniki, if you would," he gestured toward the throne, and she took his place as he led the young woman back past the kitchen to a small, dim room with only a table and chairs in it.

"You're a Dog," he said flatly, and she nodded, unsurprised that he had noticed. No one became Rogue of all Tortall on luck alone, after all.

"And I wager my weight in gold your not here to collect the Happy Bag." This time she shook her head.

"I'm here because I need your help," she said at last, a tinge of reluctance tugging at her words.

"And why should I help you, and insolent Dog no more than sixteen years old —just a Puppy, most like?"

"I'm eighteen, and a full Dog, but that doesn't matter. I need your help, and you will give it because you want what I want just as much as I do. More, maybe, if she wasn't mistaken."

"She?"

The young woman squared her shoulders and steeled herself. "Rebakah Cooper. I'm going to find her."

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and there was a pause before he said, in a voice that had a slight tremor to it, "And what have you to do with Beka Cooper?"

The young woman bit her lip. "I'm Diona Cooper, her sister."

_Edited August 29, 2010. 1,523 words._


	2. Diona's Story

**You ask me 'why _Diona?'_ and I'm not surprised. **

**Diona's a younger sister, like me, so I always felt she's getting a really bad deal with everyone portraying her as snobby and petty (including myself). She only wants what's best for her sister in this version of things, and she happened to think that being a Dog was a very bad choice on Beka's part. Besides, I wanted to have Beka's sister in this story. I'll head off the ineviatable question 'why not Lorine then? At least she's nice.' I don't think Lorine has the steel Diona does. Besides, where's the challenge in a 'nice' character?**

**As to the rest, well, I'll let Diona explain.**

**Sir Gwydion**

Chapter Two: Diona's Story

Rosto stared at her incredulously. "If you're Diona, then what in the name of all that gods are you doing as a Dog?"

"Why, upholding the King's law of course, like every other Dog." She grinned briefly, then sobered. "I suppose I'd better start from the beginning, then. I hope you aren't in a hurry. It's rather a long story."

"I've got time."

"Alright then." she settled herself back in her chair and began.

"I was fifteen when Beka disappeared, and I was rather a brat. I thought I knew everything, and Beka was just being pig-headed in her fixation with being a Dog. I never really understood what drew her to the Lower City, never really understood her at all until I left my Lady Teodorie. She always looked out for us when Mama got sick, when I was six, but I was so frustrated with her then. She insisted that I not work, only she could. I didn't understand that, either. What made her so special? After all, she was only a year older then me and the only thing she could do was talk to those fowl birds of hers. I thought I could have been some _real _use, because I had-- have, the Gift, and stronger then most, too. I didn't know then what tends to happen to a bright youngling with a promising talent that she flaunts about. Beka didn't want that to happen to me.

"And everyday, even after we moved into my Lord Provost's house, I was constantly reminded of my agrivation with her. Even when she left. My younger siblings were forever chattering about her, wondering what she was doing, how many Rats she'd caught by then, when she would come to visit. I resented her for it, and I blamed her for being so foolhardy as to turn down the chance for a good position as a lady's maid.

"When she vanished, I'm ashamed to say that I thought it was no more then she deserved. My Lady encouraged the notion, and soon I had decided it was a fact. Then something happened that opened my eyes and let me see that for all her fine manners and pretty ways, my Lady Teodorie was a vindictive, unkind --" Diona paused, and slowly unclenched her fists. "Suffice to say that I no longer had any illusions as to her character.

"I started to visit my brothers in the stables more then I had before. It was noticed, and rumors sprang up that I had an, an _indiscretion _with a stable hand who was smitten with me. Words passed between me and my Lady that I would rather not repeat, and I swore that I wouldn't stay another day under her roof.

"I was shocked. have you ever done one thing for years and years, looking down on anyone who doesn't do the same as fools, only to realize when its almost too late that you were wrong the whole time? If you have, you know how shattering it was for me. I didn't force my decision on Lorine, Will and Nilo. They still have a chance to take the advantage my Lord Gershom tried to give us all. Lorine is a notable seamstress, and both of my brothers promise to be fine messengers.

"I left before the day was out, taking what little money I had with me to pay for lodgings. I began training as a Puppy, and I've never regretted it. I was Tunstall and Goodwin's Puppy, just like Beka. Now I have my own partner, Raif. We've been together ever since we were made Dogs, over a year ago now. I like what I do, better then I ever liked doing fine needlework and wearing fashionable, clean clothes.

"I would probably be content, if it weren't for Beka. I thought she was dead, until this morning, when I found this," she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a piece of ink spattered paper. In ragged, but nonetheless elegant script, it read _Follow me, and you'll find what you seek._ The words were followed by a single, clear paw print. It was a cat's paw, too small for most dogs and with tell tale claw marks.

"You think that a cat sent you a message?" Rosto asked skeptically.

"No," she said. "I think the Cat did."

Comprehension flitted over his face. The Cat . . . the constellation that sat at the feet of the Mother Goddess, infamous for its inexplicable tendency to vanish from the night sky. And a Cat who he was possibly acquainted with.

"You mean Pounce." It wasn't a question. She nodded. "No cat I've heard of -- not even _the _Cat-- can write." he told her.

"I think he used his tail," she went on stubbornly. "That's my own paper and ink there, and I've got a full set of cat paw marks leading from my desk where I found this to the window. They stop there."

Rosto leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto the back legs. The whole tale was outrageous. A cat, even Pounce, writing with his tail, ha! And Pounce had vanished along with his mistress, three years before. But then, where had Beka's necklace come from?

She might have given it to her sister, not wanting the gifts of the Rogue she refused to love-- but no, it couldn't have been that. He remembered noticing that she was wearing it when she said goodbye before departing.

His eyes narrowed as he saw a flaw in the story. "If you're a Dog, and a Cooper, and Tunstall and Goodwin's Puppy at that, why haven't I heard of you? Even if you haven't made such a grand entrance to your time with the Dogs as Beka did, I'd have heard about you from Ersken."

"I asked him not to. He'll tell you now, if you were to talk to him. I've met Kora too, she knows me."

"And if you're such a strong mage, why are you a Dog when you could land yourself any number of soft, well paying jobs?"

Diona shifted uncomfortably. "To tell the truth, I don't like using magic. It makes me think of too many things I'd rather forget."

She shivered and for a moment, her face turned dark, her bright eyes dimming. It made Rosto wonder what the past three years had been like for a gixie who'd not had to live on the streets for eight years. When she looked back up at him, there was something of Beka in the set of her jaw and the determination of her gaze.

"Are you going to help me?" she demanded.

Slowly, he nodded. The idea that Beka might be alive ate at him, undermining the barriers he'd put between himself and feeling. Hope traitorously stirred within him. He'd tried to stamp it out, but there it was, daring him to accept this strange yet familiar girl's challenge.

"We leave tomorrow," she said with a hint of a sigh of relief and a smile. "I'll meet you at the East Gate, and hour after sunrise, unless you object."

"The East Gate?"

"My window faces East."

With that, she stood, wrapped her cloak more tightly around her (after all, no Rat likes to see a Dog in its den) and left Rosto alone with is thoughts.

She'd put him off his guard, that was a certainty. It was unnerving to see someone like her, with such fair hair and dark eyes. He dismissed the notion instantly. Was his hair not that much fairer, his eyes that much darker? But she was not at all what one would expect, for someone who'd been a fine young lady not three years ago.

She had a nerve, though. A young Dog, barely out of her white Puppy trim, barging into the Rogue's own inn demanding that he listen to her.

And for the first time in too many years, Rosto the Piper felt his lips curl into a real smile.

-

Diona made it out of the Dancing Dove without major incident. The young Rat she'd bribed to let her in decide he wish for more payment then she'd given him, but she'd managed to evade him successfully. She was feeling quite self-congratulatory, in fact, when, turning out of Nipcopper Close, she was grabbed from behind. In an instant, she had her baton out, ready to knock the fool who thought to catch her's head like a kettle drum, when a farmiliar voice made her stop.

"And what, dearest partner mine, were you doing in the King Rat's Den?"

"Raif," she said, annoyed. "Let me go! Were you following me?"

"Not as such," he answered evasively, releasing her.

"'Not as such?' What a lier you are, Raifand Barkwater."

"Alright, I was. You've been awfully mysterious all day, leaving me and the others at the tavern like that, with hardly a word. I was curious." He looked down at her from beneath his mass of pitch-black hair and smiled winsomely. His eyes were what many people called Conte blue, after the dominant eye color of the royal family. Indeed, there were rumors that Raif was the illegitimate child of the previous King. It was possible, for his mother had worked at the palace before having a coming down in circumstances, and Raif himself had the Gift, which was one reason he was partnered with Diona. 'Let mages deal with mages' was the general consensus at the Kennel.

Whether or no he was descended from royalty, Raif didn't care. He knew his place in the world: at the Kennel and on the streets, and that was good enough for him.

Diona smiled at him. "Curiosity is solely the realm of cats, not Dogs."

He grinned back at her. The proclaimed in a dramatic voice,"I couldn't leave you, Oh My Best Beloved. You draw me like a magnet! You are my compass needle's North!"

She pretended to frown, enjoying the verbal sparring. "I'm cold and distant, then, like the North?"

"Not at all! You are very close!" He reached to take her into his arms.

"Then I'll step back."

"It would be beneath your dignity to retreat, Queen among Dogs."

"Careful there, or you'll swell my head so big that I'll think I'm too good for you."

"You are."

"There you've done it! Set me on a pedestal too high to reach."

"Then I'll grow wings."

Diona laughed, unable to stop herself. "A Dog with wings! That would be a sight, and no mistake!" She stepped forwardand wrapped her arms around Raif's neck, pressing her lips to his.

"Oi!" came a voice from the street. "You two quit lollygagging about on the street! Plain disgusting, it is!" The surly man sent a baleful glare their way, and continued down Nipcopper Close.

They broke apart, laughing.

"You're in a good mood, " Raif commented, not letting her pull away too far.

"Yes, I am."

"Mithros, will you never tell me what it is? It can't have anything to do with going into the Dancing Dove."

"But it does." She briefly explained everything that had happened that day, and about her sister.

Raif frowned. "You expect me to just let you go haring off on a mad adventure with the King of the Rogue?"

Her face hardened. "It's not a matter of 'let,' Raif. "

"Hang on, I wasn't finished. I was going to say 'without me'? I'm coming with you."

She opened her mouth to protest, then smiled ruefully. "Is there anything I can do to stop you?"

"Not a thing."

This time, her drew her into and alleyway before kissing her.

"Do you know what I think?" he whispered, trailing his lips from her cheek to her ear.

She shivered pleasantly and his fingers traced down her spine. "No, what?"

"I think --" he kissed her one more time before disentagling himself from her arms. "I think that Ahuda is going to murder us if we're late for baton practice again this week."

Diona looked up. Sure enough, the sun was beginning to set.

"I think you're right. We'd better run."

Just before they reached the Kennel, she stopped him.

"An hour after sunset at the East Gate, remember. Don't be late."

"I won't be. But I don't envy you telling Ahuda, let alone Goodwin."

She groaned in mock horror, spirits still soaring, and they walked into the Kennel, side by side.

* * *

**Yes, I made a few changes to Diona for the sake of the plot, but there you have it. Hope you liked the chapter!**

**Sir Gwydion**


	3. The House of Illusion

**I was pmed with the question 'is this another of those fanfics where Beka can't take care of herself and Rosto has to rescue her?' The answer is a definite NO! Beka is by no means helpless, even if she is hoplessly out matched in this case. You'll see certain proof that I am not turning her into a swooning damsel in distress soon. I promise not to do that to her, on my honor.  
**

**Sir Gwydion**

Chapter Three: The House of Illusion

Beka stared blankly at the opposite wall. There really wasn't any other way to look at things in the Palace of Shadows. Half of what you saw was an illusion, and the other half wasn't what it seemed.

She appeared to be sitting in a dank, doorless, windowless cell, but she knew that the room wasn't any different from the rest of the Palace. In all likelihood, this was a comfortably furnished parlor. But knowing things was an imprecise art here. Which mattered more, what was there or what you thought was there? After three years she still wasn't sure. She wasn't even certain that there wasa Palace at all, and not just some elaborately crafted illusion.

Her eyes blurred, and suddenly there _was _a door, where a minute ago there had been none. A tall, graceful woman with hair as dark as rich ebony and eyes that sparkled like many-faceted alexandite walked through the door. It shimmered and vanished.Her skin looked cool and pale and clean, like polished ivory. Her features were small and delicate, set in a heart-shaped face. She wore a dress made entirely of violet-blue silk to match her eyes. All together, she was lovely, but a little too much so. Her beauty had no flaw to make her seem real, and human.

_An apt description that would be, _Beka thought. _She lives too much in illusion to be called real. _

She faced the woman, disinterestedly. "What is it this time, Kaleery?"

Kaleery smiled charmingly at her. "You know what I want, Beka dear. The same thing I've been asking for the past three years."

"And, as always, I say that I cannot tell you, and wouldn't if I could. _Why don't you let me go_?" She said the last words with a burning intensity that made Kaleery step back in surprise. Even after three years, she wasn't used to seeing the blazing ice of her prisoner's eyes. A frown wrinkled her flawless brow.

"I have lived one hundred and seventy-nine years, a long time even for my people, searching the land, learning. I am the most powerful, most skilled mage there has ever been. I have sought out all the secrets of magic, and only the workings of yours eludes me now. Tell me, and you are free."

"Go back over the sea, to that strange land you speak of so much. You'll learn nothing from me."

"I will not return home with my knowledge incomplete!" Kaleery snapped, her patience spent. "You will tell me, if it takes another hundred years!"

Beka laughed softly. She had perfected the fine art of tormenting Kaleery years before. "You are mad, my captor. You have wrapped yourself in so many spells, drunk on your own power as a mage, that your reason has snapped. No one lives for two hundred years. There is no such land as Corvenel over the sea."

"There is! I have been there, was born there, the Gift of it's blood runs in my veins, stronger then anything you and your pitiful Tortall could ever bring forth. YOU WILL NOT DEFY ME!"

"Won't I?" Beka asked. Sarcasm was something she'd learned here.

Kaleery raised her delicate hand and struck Beka across the mouth, true madness flashing in her eyes. Then she spun on her heel, leaving Beka alone again to ponder, as she had for the past three years, what was real.

She touched her swelling lower lip with the tip of her finger, and it came away bloody.

_Well, at least that's real, _she thought, and shivered. _But what else here is? Created by a mad woman, altered by her whim. No wonder she came over the sea, if that's truly where she's from. If all her relatives are like her, the entire country must be a madhouse. Worse, a madhouse full of extremely powerful mages._

She went and lay down on the straw-stuffed mattress in the corner, then closed her eyes, creating her own illusion.

_Let me dream of the Lower City, let me be there just once more . . . walking my Watch . . . baton practice . . . bruises from brawling with Waterfront Rats . . . Tunstall and Goodwin . . . my room over the Dancing Dove . . . Pounce . . . breakfast with my friends . . . Kora, Aniki, Ersken, Tansy, my family . . . and Rosto._

-

"Where is he then?" Rosto asked, disgruntled that their departure was being delayed because of Diona's partner. _Why must he come, anyway?_

"We were both rather early," Diona said, settling her pack more comfortably onto her shoulders. "He'll be here. Raif's never let me down yet."

There was a certain tone in her voice that made Rosto wonder whether or not this Raifand Barkwater was more to Diona then just a friend. _Just what I need, _he thought with grim good humor. _A pair of moonstruck lovers cooing over each other. _But Diona didn't strike him as the sort to fuss and coo over a man. Maybe he would be fortunate, and Raif wouldn't be of a cooing disposition either.

"Diona?" a light pleasant voice. He turned to see a young man with and unruly mop of black hair, brilliant blue eyes and an unmistakable look of having woken up not ten minutes ago. Rosto remembered hearing something about a Dog like him, something that gossips reveled in. What was it? Then he remembered.

"You're the Conte Dog," he said.

Raif nodded good naturedly to him. "Could be. And you're the Rogue."

Rosto grunted. Raif was altogether too cheerful for his present liking.

"Well," said Diona briskly. "Let's be off then."

There was a small trickle of people coming and going through the East Gate. Soldiers lazily scanned the crowd. The day was cool and bright, good walking weather.

After they had been on the road for a good tree hours, Diona burst out, "There! Do you see it?"

She'd stopped dead in her track. Just ahead in the distance, they could see where the road forked, North-East for Port Caynn, and continuing straight on for the Eastern fiefs. But that wasn't what Diona was looking at. She was staring avidly into the trees at the side of the road.

"Do you see it?" she demanded again.

"See what?" Rosto asked, just as Raif said "Yes! What is it?"

"Magic, I think." She went closer to the trees, looking hard. But it's strange, and very old. And it's. . ."

"Moving," Raif finished. "Moving farther in."

Rosto muttered a curse on all mages, and squinted through the trees. He didn't see magic, but what he did see made his breath catch in his throat. The perfect paw print of a cat, no, a whole trail of prints, leading straight into the trees. And they were fresh, the texture of the padded foot clear.

"Come on, " he told the Dogs."We're going after that magic."

Then, under his breath to himself, "And that Cat."

* * *

**Yes, I know the bit with Beka will take some explaining, but rest assured that it will be done, and soon. I had a bit too much fun with Kaleery, maybe, but then, it's the sort of person she is. For those of you who've read the Odyssey, she's based a bit on Circe, but not much. Just a few characteristics in common.  
**

**Sir Gwydion**


	4. Near Encounter

Chapter Four: Near Encounter

They walked all the rest of the day, spending the night under a giant pine. Although the Dogs seemed to sleep well, Rosto couldn't so much as close his eyes. He had the most terrible feeling that if they didn't keep going they would be too late.

Of course it was foolish. After three years, one more day shouldn't make a difference.

The fire snapped, throwing off sparks, and Diona shifted closer to Raif in her sleep. It was easier to look at her when she was asleep. He was reminded less of Beka, because their resemblance came not from features so much as from actions. The cheerful banter she shared with Raif, the alert way she looked around, her laugh. If Beka hadn't been as shy as an owl in daylight, the similarity would have been even stronger.

But she was just enough like Beka to remind him how much he missed her, missed her for so many reasons.

For making him smile.

For being there so he could make _her _smile.

For not leaping into his arms like every other gixie he showed an interest in (he realized now that that was one of the things he liked best about her).

For making him want to do the right thing, not the easy one, however inconvenient that wish might be for the King of Thieves.

For everything and nothing.

For just being Beka.

_Stop that, _he told himself. _Don't think about her now._

But as he fell asleep at last in the small hours of the morning, he was thinking of the possibility, however slight, that he might see her soon. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, even.

He might.

-

In the morning, Raif got breakfast. One look at Diona's disgruntled, say-one-word-and-I'll-get-my-baton expression and the Rogue's surly face convinced him that it was better all around. He knew from their Puppy year that first thing in the morning was not the time to bait Diona. Or even talk to her. And when the Rouge looked that dower, one didn't quibble about the fact that it was _his _turn to fetch water from the nearby stream. It wasn't healthy.

As soon as she had drunk the hot tea that Raif gave her, Diona lost her early morning hostility and became her usual self. Rosto, however, seemed surlier then before, speaking all in all five words. "No tea," "Let's go," and "Hurry."

Hurry they did, though it wasn't clear what they were following, just marching South-East, as straight as they could go.

In the late afternoon, they came across a surprise. A road, paved with smooth blue-gray stones headed in the direction they were following, having curved in from the North. After a brief consultation, they decided to follow it. They were all three tired from breaking a trail through the trees.

Dusk was gathering on the edges of the horizon when at last they saw something. A sprawling castle lay not a hundred paces away from them, set among the trees like an elaborate flower half hidden in the grass. Flying buttresses supported its immense height, towers soared up to impale the darkening sky.

"I never knew there was a castle like this so close to Port Caynn and Corus." Raif said at last." Its not part of Fief Androndell, I spent a year there on my uncle's farm before he despaired of ever making a farmer of me. If there were one like this, I'd have heard. And we aught to be in Androndell, so what in Mithros's name is it doing here?"

"It's not a castle, " Diona said. "It's a palace. If it were a castle, it would have defenses better then these. Look," she pointed. "There's not even a gate to keep people out."

"The Royal Palace has defenses," Raif objected. "And no one calls it a castle."

Rosto shook his head. "The palace's defences are mostly in the outer wall, then there's the Forest behind it. A castle wouldn't have any wall other then the castle itself. "

"And this place doesn't have so much as a moat . . . " Diona said, frowning.

"We're going in," Rosto said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You," He pointed at Raif, "Will stay here and watch for any trouble. I'm sure you two mages can talk to each other through magic."

Slowly, Diona nodded. "I guess that's the best way, but . . . It doesn't seem right to split up."

"'Divide and conquer,'" Raif said, more from the wish to cheer her up that from actual conviction. "I'll be fine."

But as his partner and the Rogue made their way through the gathering gloom towards the palace, a shiver rolled down his spine.

The dark came suddenly, so fast that for one dazed moment he thought his over-long hair had fallen into his eyes. Then they began to adjust. Like he'd been taught as a Puppy, he didn't stay still. He paced fifty-foot long line across the road and to the edge of the tree line, then back.

The hair rose on the back of his neck as he felt rather then saw a -- _something _move past him in the dark, fast. A pebble skittered across the paving stones, but otherwise, whatever it was passed in absolute silence.

Raif forced himself to move. Fifty paces to the tree line, fifty paces back.

He hoped that Diona and Rosto were alright.

More for reassurance then the nessecity to tell them, he tried to send a speaking spell to Diona to tell her about the thing that had passed him. But he couldn't seem to find her. It must just be that he was tired.

Then he looked over toward the palace, searching for the door they had gone through. But there was no door, only the smooth, unbroken gray stone of the palace wall.

It had vanished as swiftly as the light of a candle, snuffed out in the dark.

-

When Beka awoke, she was in a familiar place. The cell was gone, replaced by a circular room high in the South Tower. All around her were glassless windows. Far far below were the tree tops, swaying gently in the breeze. She shuddered. This was one of Kaleery's favorite places to put her. Having live in the Lower City and then in relative seclusion at the Lord Provost's house, she'd never been higher then a two or three story building, and being this high above the ground made her stomach lurch.

Beka leaned out the window, testing herself.

Was she brave enough to try, this time? To try climbing down?

No, she wasn't. But she would do it anyway this time, because the alternative was far more frightening. To stay in the Palace of Shadows forevermore until she died, with a madwoman. She herself would go mad if she didn't get out soon.

Taking a deep breath, she remembered a rhyme from when she was a child, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips.

"Hey ho, its any fool's go." she whispered, pulling off her boots and tying them to her belt.

Then she went to the window, which now seemed a hundred-hundred feet higher then ever before, and swung leg over the window sill. Her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes are she felt the wind tugging at her bare foot. And the afternoon sunlight, now warm, now cool, against her skin.

Yes. She would do this, even if her mind snapped from terror, it might be better then it snapping from imprisonment. She didn't think about the possibility of falling, only groped with her bare toes for the crevice between two of the blocks of smooth gray stone that made up the palace.

Then her other foot was out and she moved down, the wind tugging at her ragged, well-worn Dog uniform, and she was climbing down, he gaze never moving from the gray rock.

She never knew how long it took her to get to the bottom. She didn't want to know. All that she knew was that she'd had gotten there, and it was bliss. Bliss to be free.

Without bothering to put on her boots -- scared to take the time to do it -- she ran toward the road, down it, as fast as she could, faster then she'd ever chased a Rat through the streets of the Lower City, unheeding of the sharp rocks and sticks that cut her feet.

She didn't look back.

* * *

**Alright! Things are about to start falling into place! And then it gets reallyreallyreally fun to write! My sister is glaring at me and telling me to stop grinning like a half wit! Eeeeeeeeeee!!**

**Sir Gwydion**


	5. The Terrier's Return

**Yes, Beka did indeed escape, for those of you who thought I was just pulling the wool over your eyes. I can't say I blame you for doubting it. After all, this whole story is about dreams, illusions, and not-as-they-seems!**

**Sir Gwydion**

Chapter Five: The Terrier's Return

Beka stared at Corus for a full five minutes when it finally came into sight just as dawn broke over the eastern horizon. She had made it home faster then she would have believed possible, due partly to the fact that she had run all through the night, and also to excellent condition of the road. It had widened and smoothed over considerably since she'd set out three years ago for Port Caynn.

Her blood began to sing in her veins. Three years. After three years, she was going to see them all again! Tunstall, Goodwin, Ahuda, Ersken, Kora, Aniki, Rosto, Phelan, Tansy-- she realized that Tansy's baby would be almost four years old now -- Will, Nilo, Diona, Lorine, the Lord Provost, Granny Fern, all of them! And the Lower City, with it's narrow, winding streets and bustling taverns, the colorful people, the Olorun River. She had ached to see them all for too many years.

What would she do first? _I'll go to Goodwin's house, _she decided. _But I'll take a long walk getting there. I'll but some breakfast at the Day Market . . . _But no, she didn't have any money. _Goodwin will feed me then, I hope._

Though it was early, she could already see a trickle of people going in and out the East Gate. She continued on down the road to the Gate, then into the streets. All the familiar smells assailed her -- food cooking, fresh bread, damp, smoke, and several less savory scents.

She took her time walking to Goodwin's house. Nobody notice her; she was just another ragged figure roaming the streets. It was about midmorning when she reached her destination. Once again she was struck by the incongruity of Goodwin and her house. Neat rows of flowers ushered her up the path well several hens pecked around in a lazy manner, as if to express their utter disdain for all things human.

When she knocked on the door, it opened almost instantly to reveal Goodwin's husband, Ganvel. He seemed to be in a hurry, because he only glanced briefly at her before saying "You'd better come in. You'll have some breakfast? That is, if we ever have any breakfast. I'm afraid it's burning. "

Confused, Beka followed him into the house. Smoke rose in a great billowing cloud from a pot over the fire. Flames licked up its insides, peeping over the rim.

"Mother of Mercy!" Ganvel swore, dumping the fire bucket over the pot. Stream flewup, replacing the smoke, as water overflowed from the pot and into the now spitting fire. "Well, " he said at last, "we'll have some rolls for breakfast then." He smiled at me quickly, then turned and shouted up to the sleeping loft above, "Clary! Diona's here!"

_Diona? _Beka thought bemusedly, standing stock still in the middle of the floor.

"I'll be down in a moment!" Unmistakably Goodwin. No one else could achieve that level of grumpiness with such precision.

There was a knock, urgent and hard on the door. Ganvel left the pot to open it. "Raif!" he said. "Come in! Why don't you stay for breakfast?"

Great plumes of smoke swirled around the room, making it hard to see. A young man with a profusion of black hair and a foot-sore look to him came through the door, closing it behind him.

"I--" he began, the caught sight of Beka. "Diona!" he said, relief clear in his voice. He sprang forward and swept her up in a tight hug. Beka couldn't react. It was all too strange.

When he set her down, he started talking in a quick, worried voice. "I came back here as fast as I could when I couldn't contact you, to get help. Not much I could have done about that place on my own. But --" Then he saw her eyes, as coldly blue as the sky reflected off snow in winter. Her hair was the wrong color too, darker. He stared at her speechless, and she stared back, wide eyed.

The loft ladder creaked behind them as Goodwin climbed down. Beka's head automatically turned toward the noise, and she was startled at how different she looked. Older. Then a waft of smoke drifted past from the hissing fire, obscuring her.

"For Mithros's sake, Ganvel," she said tartly, but not too tartly because she was always nicer to Ganvel then to anyone else, "open a window! You, boy, put out the fire. And you, Diona, " she pointed to Beka, "explain what you and Raif are doing back already afore two days have gone!"

"I'm not Diona!" Beka burst out, and there was a long silence. Raif, who hadn't moved a step, shook his head, but whether he meant to affirm the words or deny them wasn't clear.

Goodwin's hands clamped tightly over Beka's shoulders, propelling her toward the door and clearer air. Goodwin stared at her for a long moment, then told Raif, "Go get Mattes."

Raif went without a word, at a dead run. Ganvel, experienced in dealing with Dog situations, wisely decided to leave this to his wife, and set about making another breakfast.

"Cooper," Goodwin said quietly. "Where in the name of all the gods have you been for the last three years?"

There was something wet on Beka's cheek. It dripped off her chin and onto her dusty, falling-apart uniform, soaking into the fabric. Something clicked into place and she realized what it was.

_I am _not _crying! _she thought, horrified. Then she was sobbing. Goodwin wrapped an arm around her and guided her to a chair, letting the tears come.

When she finally stopped crying, the house was very full. Kora, Aniki, Tunstall, Ersken, Tansy, the Lord Provost, Lorine -- all the people she'd imagined seeing again but never really believed. For one brief moment she wondered where Pounce was, but no. He'd vanished that day three years before when she was kidnapped, snatched off the road the way a fox steals eggs.

There was a very large, very noisy breakfast. Many people had brought contributions of their own, just like at the breakfasts they'd had at the Dancing Dove. When all the greetings were over, everyone listened as Beka told them about the Palace of Shadows and its mistress, Kaleery.

In the misdt of a sentance, Beka stopped, frowning. "Where's Rosto?" she said after a pause. "And Diona? Where are they?" Everyone turned to Raif, who was very pale. "I think -- " he faltered, "I think they're in the Palace of Shadows."

There was a long moment of silence. No one could hold Beka's gaze for long. Her eyes were filled with a thousand frozen ghosts, screaming to the empty wind. But Beka didn't say a word for a long time. When she did speak, her eyes took on a cool, iced-over look, and it was easier to look at her again.

"Well, then" she said. "We shall have to go and get them out again."

* * *

**Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! (Grins like a _quarter-_wit!)**

**Sir Gwydion**


	6. The Palace of Shadows

**I'm back! And I feel rather guilty about not updating in so long I've kind of gotten carried away with my new Eragon story, _Emerald Fire. _I forgot how much fun this story is. Hope you enjoy!**

**Sir Gwydion **

Chapter Six: The Palace of Shadows

Inside the castle gate, there was a garden, and on a bench set beneath a bower of small white flowers sat a woman. She was coldly beautiful, with eyes that matched her violet-blue silk dress, shining black hair, and lips as lustrously red as a ripe strawberry in the spring. She seemed to be waiting for Diona and Rosto, hands folded on her lap patiently.

"Excuse me," Diona began politely. "But--"

"Welcome, " the woman said in a voice to chill the blood and set shivers chasing down the spine, "To the Palace of Shadows." Then she vanished into the air like a ghost, leaving the pair alone in the garden. A silvery wind shimmered through the sweet scented air.

"What _is _this place?" Diona said, paling slightly.

"And who was she?" Rosto wondered aloud.

"A very, very powerful mage. Disappearing takes a strong Gift."

Looking around, Rosto wandered over to a pool of clear water, looked down into its crystalline depths, and gasped. There, pale ane transparent as a flame in sunlight, was Beka, lying just beneath the surface. He reached a hand in to pull her out, but his fingers only struck the cold marble of the pool's bottom. The image of Beka vanished, but his heart still pounded and he stared at the clear water, breathing hard.

"Rosto!" Diona called suddenly. "The door!"

He whirled to face it, then turned around slowly, searching. There was no door to be seen. They were trapped.

And there was the lovely woman again, striding toward them from nowhere. He heard Diona gasp and raise her hands. The dark emerald light of her Gift flared around them, and a steady violet blue stream of fire beat against it. A shield! And the woman was attacking.

_Curse all mage craft! _Rosto thought. He was fast as lightening, had never lost a fight, but against magic he was helpless.

In the next moment, everything happened too fast to comprehend, even for the Piper. He was never sure what happened first, or how. The bluish light flared, the green failed -- Diona let out a gasp and collapsed to the ground -- the woman's face suddenly twisted with rage, madness in her eyes -- everything shimmered and changed, the garden vanishing -- an irresistable pressure on his mind made him fall to his knees, then to the ground, and then -- nothing.

-

When she woke up, Diona felt awful. Her eyes were scratchy, her mouth dry and her throat felt as if she had been eating course sand. Something cool and damp rubbed across her forehead, and she looked up blearily to see--

"Mama?"

Ilany Cooper put a finger to Diona's lips. "Shh, now darling. You'll be well again soon. You've had a fever."

Diona tried to sit up, but her vision grayed over, so she flopped back on the pillow, a rough, rag-stuffed pillow. "Mama, why are you here? You're d--" She stopped, then looked fuzzily up at the woman kneeling by her. Her pretty, vivacious face was framed by loose brown curls, he bright brown eyes smiling. It was Mama. It had to be. Did she really have a fever? Had she dreamed the past eleven years? There was a painful twist in her stomach. _Raif. _She didn't want to have dreamed him. How could a girl of seven dream all the things that she had done?

But there was Ilany, unnervingly real and smiling so lovingly down at her.

_Raif, if I really did only dream you, I swear, I swear by my soul and by my heart that I will spend the rest of my life trying to find you, dreaming of you._

"Mama . . . "

"Hush, dear one. You'll wake your sisters."

Diona turned her head, and there was Beka as she had been when she was eight years old, her delicate, serious face turned toward the light and Diona. Just past her, jammed onto the straw mattress only big enough for one, was Lorine.

"Beka," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her sister's face. _Oh, I can't have dreamed it all. I've had fever's before -- or I dreamed that I had -- and I've never remembered things so clearly. Think of it, Diona, remember it all. Sunlight on the Olorun, Tunstall laughing with Lady Sabine the night before she had to leave for Border Patrol Duty, Goodwin's glares, even Lady Teodorie's face the day you left, the hate in her eyes, the welts on your wrist from where she struck you with her riding crop. Nilo's crying. Will's sad, sad, eyes. Lorine's doll like features stained with tears. Oh, I can't have imagined that awful day._

She closed her eyes tightly shut, and tried to remember something -- but what? _The day I first met Raif!_

-

Diona had been lodging at the Pony's Mane for three days, but she wouldn't be staying there much longer if she couldn't find work. She'd managed to sell her proper, lace-trimmed, lady's maid dress and buy clothes more appropriate for the Lower City, a plain skirt and blouse as well as a shirt and breeches. A few more coins had gone to the purchase of a dagger. She had no with to wader the streets with no means of protecting herself.

She left her hair braided down her back so it wouldn't get in her way. There was something that Beka had said once about how she wore her hair in the streets, a braid and something else that Diona couldn't quite remember, but it would have to do.

Careful to lock her door behind her, she ran down the stairs and waved to the plump, kindly old land lady on her way out. Plump and kindly, but also shrewd. Diona had the distinct sense that Mistress Carter would have charged her more for her room if she thought she could get away with it.

A small child ran behind her as she made her way toward the Day Market. He chanted in a sing song tone, "Coo-per! Coo-per! Its the lost Dog's sister! Coo-per! Coo-per! Do you miss her?"

"Leave me alone!" Diona cried.

"Coo-per! Coo-per! Its the lost Dog's sister! Coo-per! Coo--"

Diona put a hand over the little boy's mouth. "Stop that, understand?"

He only grinned and danced away from her, still chanting.

"Mithros!" she cried, and tried to ignore him as he followed her to the Day Market. All the was, that small, dirty face bounced along behind her, repeating the lines again and again.

After she had bought her bread (three days old and stale to save money), she heard a crier shouting. After a moment, she managed to get the gist of the message. The crier's employer's were looking for a mage to work for them! _That's a lucky chance and no mistake! _she thought, and made her way over to him.

"Just over there, mistress, in the 'ouse with the broken green shutters, just at th' corner. Go on, be off with ye." He began his cry again.

"-- the lost Dog's sister! Coo-per! Coo-per! Do you--" The boy was still following her as she made her way to the house, though sometimes his piping voice was lost in the noise of the Market crowd. Sighing, she rapped on the scratched and dented door.

" 'S not locked!" A voice called from within, heavy and masculine.

Diona was about to turn the knob when the chanting boy said, "Let me come too and I'm leave ye be!"

"Fine, but don't make any trouble, and keep your mouth shut." Anything to get rid of him. He nodded, lips pressed in a tight line as if her were trying to prove the intention never to speak again.

It was dark and musty inside the house, and the dirty faced boy reached out a hand to hold on to Diona's skirt. A huge, beefy man with small, pale eyes and unwashed brown hair sat in the corner. He stood when he saw Diona. "Magda!" he said.

Diona frowned in confusion. Magda? Then she heard a rustle behind her and whirled to see a tall, bony woman with a pointed face and hunger in her eyes holding a dagger to the little boy's throat.

"Got 'im, Merelwy," she said.

Merelwy grinned, showing a row of long, yellowing teeth. "Right," he said. "You, gixie, you're a mage, right?"

She nodded. What else could she do? The little boy was aggravating, but she had let him come in here with her. She wouldn't be responsible for his death.

"Well then, we've got a job for you, and you'd better do it and do it sharpish, or the lad gets an 'ole stuck in his 'eart. Do we understand each other? Good."

Terror turned her blood to ice. Adrenaline made her hands tremble at her sides. She coiled them into fists, but still they shook. "What--" she began, the licked her dry lips. "What do you want me to d-do?"

The grin stretched even wider, impossibly wide, splitting his Merelwy's splotchy face in two. He stepped forward until she could smell the stench of his rotten breath. Gasping, she turned tried to pull away, but he gripped her shoulders, restraining her. His cracked lips parted as if to speak, then there was a sickening thud and he toppled forward, flattening her to the ground. Pain shot through her side and her head slammed into the hard dirt floor. If there was breath in her lungs, she might have screamed.

There were voices, but Diona couldn't make sense of them for the spinning in her head.

"Caught the ol' douser at last."

"And his knifer."

"Is the lad alright?"

"Fine. Just a bit shook up. He's already run off."

"You, Puppy, get the Rat off the gixie."

Merelwy's weight shifted, then was gone. A hand reached out to her. Diona hit out blindly with her fist, and connected with something solid.

"Ouch," said a voice she hadn't heard before. The tall, black-haired young man who'd been trying to help her up rubbed his cheek, then stretched out his hand again.

"I'm trying to help you, not kill you," he said. Diona's eyes focused and she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet.

"I'm Raif Barkwater."

"Diona Cooper."

He looked at her curiously. "You're not from around here, are you?"

She shook her still spinning head, then winced.

"Something broken?"

Diona moved experimentally. "Just bruised I think. Thank you."

"I'll walk you home. You hit your head pretty hard, and I'd like to be sure you make it there in one piece."

"Alright."

As they walked, Raif told her about his job as a Puppy. "Next year, I'll actually be a working Puppy, not just one in training. The only reason I was with Snapper and Greel is that Greel knows my mother." He made a face. "It seems as though every one knows her."

"Just like my sister," Diona said.

"Was she Beka Cooper? The Dog who went missing not too long ago?"

"Yes. It's really because of her that I'm here." She told him all about how Beka got the Bold Brass Gang turned in when she was only eight, the Provost's house in Patten District, Lorine, Nilo and Will, then, with a touch of shame, how she used to hate Beka for taking care of the family and never letting Diona work, and then later for going back to the Lower City when she could have had any number of finer occupations then chasing Rats. "And I was so, so wrong, and I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am and how much I love her. She's my own sister, and I've treated her like scum for almost as long as I can remember."

Raif glanced at her. She wasn't crying, as many on the girls he knew would do if they were telling this same story, but to him that didn't speak of a lack of feeling, but a will stronger then those feelings. Just down the street, he saw the Pony's Mane's worn sign, paint hanging off of it in strips. He took her hands. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Almost sixteen," she frowned in confusion.

He smiled. "The perfect age to start training as a Puppy. Come with me to the Jane Street Kennel tomorrow. You'll only be a few days behind the rest of us. You could catch up easily. Ahuda's looking for another Puppy; one of us new ones ran away, and you need a job. What do you say?"

She hardly even paused to think. "Yes. Yes I will."

He smiled again. A nice smile. "Well then, Puppy Cooper, I'll come by in the morning and take you to the Kennel so we can officially ask Ahuda. See you then!" He turned and walked away, back toward the Day Market.

Diona stared after him, thinking. It felt good to have told someone about everything.

Thoughtfully, she climbed the stairs to her room.

"Do you know what?" she asked the empty room. "If there are people in this Lower City like Raif Barkwater, then I might actually like it here."

There was no reply. She didn't need or expect one. For the first time in years, she smiled a real, wide, happy smile, not a dainty lady's curving of the lips. _Maybe I'll even like being a Dog._

-

_Not a dream! Not a dream! Not a dream! _Diona's heart seemed to tap out the rhythm of the words. She looked at her wrist. There was the scar she'd gotten in baton practice. Her sleeve was black, black as a Dog's uniform and at her hip there was a baton.

She looked straight into the brown eyes of the phantom of Ilany Cooper, and said very clearly, "My mother died eleven years ago. I don't know what this is, but it isn't really. You are not my mother, that is not Beka, that is not Lorine, and I am not back on Mutt Piddle Lane."

Everything went dark.

-

Mist. Everywhere there was mist, swirling damp and blueish gray through the air. Rosto sat up. He felt as if he had been dragged across a cobbled street, back and forth, for hours. Every bone, every sinew, every hair on his head ached.

_Greetings, mortal. _The voice sounded not in his ear but in his mind. He whirled around, searching for its source. But he saw nothing, nothing but a small black kitten, barely large then his fist. Its slit-pupiled emerald eyes seemed to cast a faint glow upon the mist.

_I never thought you would look like that, _the voice went on curiously. _My uncle, the Cat, told me to bring you here, though, so you must be some use. You're lucky its the Fall Equinox, or I couldn't have managed it. What are you called, mortal?_

"Rosto. Rosto the Piper. Are you . . . a cat?"

_What else would I be? Well, Rosto Rosto the Piper (funny name, that) I'm Daggerpaw. Come on. Follow me. _

Unable to think of anything else to do, Rosto followed the tiny kitten. He felt absurd. "Is it you who's been leaving messages and making trails and everything.

_Oh no. That was my Uncle Cat. He's terrible angry, because the Greater Gods have just called a council, trying to decide what to do about several important matters. We all have to be there. Really, I should too, but I'm still so small that no one notices if I slip away. One of the things they're going to discuss is whether Uncle should be allowed to keep on with his interfering. 'Well just let me finish this business first, then lets talk,' he said, but no, they wouldn't wait. He's very angry. Something about Beka Cooper escaping on her own while her rescuers got caught because he wasn't there to guide things along._

"Beka's escaped?"

_Oh yes. It's amazing really that Kaleery would have been so careless. After all she is one of--_

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Where exactly are we?"

The small cat turned and blinked at him with his long green eyes.

_Why, the Divine Realms, of course. Where else would we be?_


End file.
